


Intimacy

by Littleshebear



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Developing Relationship, Developing Romance, F/M, Fluff, Humour, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 01:59:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleshebear/pseuds/Littleshebear
Summary: Written as a prompt fill: "I don't want to get up. You're comfy."A very drunk Hawthorne tries to figure out exactly what she and Zavala mean to each other.Follows directly on from 'Battlegrounds:' https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695358





	Intimacy

Zavala couldn’t say exactly what time it was when they left the pub. It had started to rain and much of the gathering cleared out. When Suraya howled with laughter and called them a bunch of “lightweight townies,” Zavala decided it was Get Hawthorne Home O’Clock.

Hawthorne walked, well, weaved her way along the empty streets just ahead of him, meandering back and forth from one side of the road to the other. She stopped suddenly and spun round to face Zavala.

“I think Shaxx knows. About us. He was giving us funny looks.”

“Possibly,” Zavala hedged, gently taking her by the elbow and trying to steer her back in the direction of home.

“He was!”

“Would it bother you if he did know?”

“Nope!” She said brightly, shaking her head. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned against him with a happy sigh.

“Suraya,” he returned the hug but there was an insistent tone in his voice. “We need to get you home.”

“Shhhh…” She hugged him tighter and mumbled against his shoulder. “There’s no one around. Been waiting all night to do this.”

“If you don’t care what people think, why didn’t you do it earlier?”

“Because…” she tipped her head back to look up at him, “You might care. You’ve got…” She paused, swaying slightly on the spot. “An image. You’re Mr Big Serious Commander man, maybe you don’t want some woman hanging off you in public.”

He frowned. “You’re not  _some woman_ , Suraya.”

“ _I_  know that, _you_  know that, but _they_  don’t know that. They might get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea would that be?”

“That we’re just…” She trailed off, her brows knotting together. “No, I mean, that we’re in a rela- I don’t know.”

Zavala didn’t give want to give her too long for her alcohol-addled brain to try to figure out just exactly what they meant to eachother. Now was not the time for that kind of soul-searching. “Come on,” he said, disengaging from the hug, “Let’s get you home.”

“No,” she whined, “I don’t want to to go home. I’m having fun.”

“It’s late,” Zavala argued, reasoning as best he could, “You’re drunk. You need to get some sleep.”

Hawthorne shook her head, with a haughty smile. “No. Not going. Whatya gonna do about it?” She sniggered and added, “Sir.”

He raised one eyebrow and smirked. “That was a mistake.” He suddenly ducked down, caught her around her legs, lifted her up and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. She shrieked in surprise before laughing uproariously.

“That’s not fair!”

“You invoked ‘Sir,’ it’s entirely fair,” he countered with a chuckle. “You brought this on yourself.” He carried her down the street while she gasped for breath in between guffaws. She eventually got her laughter under control when he started climbing the steps to her apartment.

“Wow!” She marvelled, from her vantage point over his shoulder, “You have such a great ass. Why do you cover it with that grubby old tea towel?”

Zavala sighed deeply, “That grubby old tea towel has been with me through eight ages of battle, it’s deeply symbolic-” He was interrupted by another fit of hilarity from Hawthorne.

“You are such  an easy mark!” She lowered her voice in imitation, “Blah, blah a gazillion ages of battle, blah blah titan pride, blah blah self-important Guardian crap.”

He decided to ignore her mockery as they arrived at her door. “Suraya? What’s the access code?”

“It’s Louis’ birthday.”

“Doesn’t help me.”

She snorted and patted his shoulder. “Put me down.” She slid to the floor, relying on Zavala to steady her. She raised both eyebrows and blinked furiously, trying to focus on the keypad. When she punched in the correct code, Zavala suspected it was down to muscle memory rather than any conscious, rational thought.

Hawthorne entered the apartment, taking Zavala by the hand and dragging him in with her. “Look!” She said excitedly, fishing for and eventually finding the lightswitch in the darkness. “Check it out, I bought furniture!” She pointed out proudly. “I have a couch!” She flopped down on the sofa and patted the seat beside her.

“Well done Suraya,” Zavala said indulgently, sitting beside her. The apartment was still almost comically spartan, but at least it was starting to resemble a home rather than a shell. The second he sat beside her, she clambered into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I had fun tonight. Didn’t think I would.” She sighed happily and settled against him. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For sticking up for me earlier.”

“You’re welcome…” He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Not that you need me to defend you.”

“You’re good at it though, you always know what to say.” Her speech was becoming more indistinct, devolving into a slurred mumble. “I just shoot my mouth off and upset people.”

He laughed softly and pressed a gentle kiss to her hairline. “You’re just honest. Don’t ever change that.”

“See?” She nuzzled into his neck with a contented, “Mm” sound. “Always know what to say.” Zavala thought he felt her relaxing into him while her breathing slowed.

“Suraya,” he said softly, rubbing her back. “Go to bed. Come on, make a move.”

“Nooo…” she wriggled, as though she was making to change position but just settled back exactly where she’d been before. “Can’t we just sit for a while?” She slipped a hand under the lapel of his dress-jacked and rested it against his chest. “This is nice.”

“A few minutes, then you really need to sleep it off.” Even as he said that, he had to admit, this  _was_  nice. Alcohol-fuelled or not, it had been a long time since he’d experienced this kind of relaxed, easy intimacy. He suddenly realised how much he’d missed it. He focused on the little details; how her body slotted so perfectly against his, the scent of her hair, the way her hand drifted downwards to come to rest over his heart. He wasn’t sure how long they sat like this, his sense of the passage of time being completely overwhelmed by the feeling of wanting to stay that way forever. He thought she had finally fallen asleep when he heard her voice again, barely more than a whisper.  

“Zavala?” She paused before speaking again, quiet and tentative. “I think I’m a little bit in love with you.”

On hearing that, Zavala felt a sensation that could only be described as his stomach flipping upside down. He decided to deflect her, and his, nervousness with humour. “Only a little bit?”

She looked up at him with a wan smile and held up her thumb and forefinger. “Jus’ a li’l bit.” Her smile faded and she started to babble. “I’ve never…I know we said this was supposed to be fun but…” She took a deep breath and rounded off her disjointed, drunken confession with a whispered, “I’m scared.”

He wrapped his arms around her protectively and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I…” He sighed. “I really don’t think this is the right time to be having this conversation. I don’t want you to say anything you might regret in the morning.” He delicately tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before caressing her cheek with his thumb. “But if you remember one thing about tonight, remember this: You don’t need to be scared. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

She nodded, “I know you wouldn’t,” She let out a little staged laugh before adding, “Guardian.”

“Come on,” he manoeuvred himself to the edge of the couch, ignoring her grumbles. He was determined to get her to bed before the drunken melancholy really had a chance to kick in. “You’re going to make me carry you again, aren’t you?”

“Ah, you enjoy it,” she giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up and off the couch. “Playing the big, strong, protective Titan. You love it.”

He gently deposited her on the bed, before slipping off her shoes and arranging the covers over her as best he could.

“I’m r’lly drunk,” she announced, as if this were brand new information.

“I know,” he replied indulgently. “You want some water?” She just nodded mutely, looking gradually more miserable. He left to fetch her a glass of water from the kitchenette and when he returned, she was groaning with her hands over her face.

“Feel sick. Room’s spinning,” she complained.

He placed the water on her bedside cabinet and suggested, “Put one foot on the floor.”

“How’s that gonna-?” She was cut off by him taking her ankle and gently pulling it down off the bed so her foot was flat on the floor. “Oh.” She blinked her eyes open, lying spread-eagled, one foot on the bed, one foot off, her skirts hopelessly rumpled. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Many, many misspent evenings as a young Guardian.” He perched on the edge of the bed, smiling down at her. “Shaxx wasn’t lying when he said I don’t deal well with hangovers.”

“I like Shaxx. He’s funny.” She gasped and grabbed Zavala’s hand. “I think he knows about us.”

“I know, you told me already.” He leaned down kissed her brow. “Go to sleep.”

She stubbornly kept hold of his hand when he stood. “Will you stay?”

“Not going to happen. Go to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When he left her apartment, there was a faint orange glow on the horizon, the sun would be up soon. As he wandered back to his own abode, he silently chastised himself for his hypocrisy. Even as he’d persuaded Suraya to rest, he knew sleep would not be forthcoming for him that night.


End file.
